Life in the Peruvian Jungle

Angels Working Overtime

Another installment of what-happens-when-daddy-is-away for your enjoyment…

Dan left yesterday evening for Lima to pick up Grandma Sonia from the airport. He’ll be putting her on another plane to come here tomorrow morning, and then tomorrow evening Micah and I will fly to Lima to join him to finish Micah’s visa paperwork and get his next round of vaccinations. She’ll be here alone with the boys for about 48 hours until Dan and I get back to enjoy the rest of her trip here with her.

Anyway, it’s always been interesting what mischief my kids can come up with when it’s just them and me – and they know that I can’t run in three directions at once. I thought maybe their getting older would change things, but no. It just makes them more interesting. And add in the fact that I am nursing and often unable to do anything but yell at them to get their soapy behinds back in the bathtub, which just makes Micah wail and add to the cacophony… But I digress.

The greatest challenge I have with alone with them is bathing. Not them. I mean myself. Whenever I try to do it, bad things happen. You would think that I would realize that there is a very direct scientific correlation between the two. Today was no different. After a fairly successful day of homeschooling, I sent the boys outside to play so I could nurse, shower, and pack. About two seconds after my shower, the phone rang. It was my teammate asking me if I was aware that my children were playing in the yard… with knives. I called them to come inside, and they walked in one after another like a chain gang, complete with shivs hiding under their shirts. Claiming mommy omniscience, I confiscated their hidden weapons. They had steak knives, people, steak knives. And butter knives too, just for kicks.

This was our conversation:

Me (holding up the contraband as evidence): What in the heck do you think you are doing playing with KNIVES?!

Moses (the one with the pirate hat on his head): Mom, we couldn’t find our pretend swords so we had to use knives. We are pirates.

Me: … … Oh right. Well, in that case… Guys, look at this thing. What does this do?

Ben: It cuts chicken!

Me: What is chicken?

Boys: Uhhh…

Me: Is it meat?

Boys: YES! It’s meat!

Me: What are you?

Boys: uhhh…

Me: You are MEAT! You’re meat! And this knife will cut through you like it cuts through chicken! YOU CANNOT PLAY WITH KNIVES!

I huffed and puffed for a few more minutes until I thought I got my point across. Then I sent them outside again, where they stayed for all of two seconds.